


Storytime

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Art and Fic, Family Fluff, Gen, Minor Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Itarillë wants to show off her reading skills to her big cousin Maitimo.
Relationships: Idril Celebrindal & Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Storytime

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request for smilinganon on tumblr! I've only recently begun drawing, as of this year, so I'm very flattered that this anon wanted to see my art as well as my writing :)

Maitimo flashed a glance to Findekáno, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “Are you certain this is a good idea?” he asked. “Your brother might throw me out on my rear if he catches me near his daughter.” **  
**

“Come _on_ , Uncle Maitimo!” Itarillë begged. “Please, I wanna show you how good I can read!”

“How _well_ you can read,” Maitimo corrected, leaning down to tap her gently on the nose. “And alright, alright. As long as Uncle Findekáno promises to keep guard for your atto.”

“I promise,” Findekáno said solemnly, placing a hand over his heart. “And you, Itarillë, must never tell!”

Itarillë considered this, then nodded gleefully. “It’ll be a secret,” she whispered, tugging on Maitimo’s long red hair. Then she paused. “Can I tell Amil?”

“If you think she won’t tattle on me to your atto,” Maitimo agreed. Elenwë was reasonable where her husband was not, so he thought that would be safe.

“Atto’s so _silly_ ,” Itarillë scoffed. “He’s always glaring at Auntie when she tells stories about your brothers, and when you took me to the market he yelled at Uncle Finno! Why doesn’t he like you, Uncle Maitimo?”

Maitimo met Findekáno’s eyes and shrugged. Turukáno was a nér of many mysteries; his unfondness for his Fëanárion cousins was only mildly justified. “I don’t know, Itarillë. Maybe because when he was your age my atar yelled at him?”

“But that’s Fëanáro’s fault, not yours,” Itarillë pointed out.

Maitimo considered whether or not it was worth it to defend his father, and decided against it. Itarillë grabbed his hand and dragged him over to her father’s plush chair, ordering him to sit down. She grabbed a red book and opened it up to the middle, tossing aside her bookmark as she jumped up into Maitimo’s lap.

Maitimo winced slightly; she was getting quite big, almost as big as Tyelpë, who despite being a decade younger than her had already surpassed his father in height. Not that it took much to be taller than Curvo; he was the shortest of their whole family, at least the ones who were grown, and even Finno had a half-inch or so on him. Itarillë was on the slighter side, and growing a bit slower, but her father was Turukáno, who almost rivalled Maitimo himself in height. He wondered if Itarillë would outgrow even him, someday!

“Your hair’s in my face,” he informed her, blowing a golden curl away from his mouth. Itarillë giggled, but shifted over slightly so he could better see her book.

“What is this?” he asked. The tengwar was accompanied by colorful illustrations of various insects, not at all like the books with which he had learned to read. No, those had been philosophical and historical texts that his own father had written in the early days of devising the new way of writing. By now, though, writers had evidently had time to branch out and create books just for children.

“Amil helped write it!” Itarillë exclaimed. “Her auntie Elemmírë, who’s also Atto’s auntie, did you know that? She wrote the story, for me, and then Amil drew the pictures and went to get it bound! Isn’t that the wonderfullest?”

“That is wonderful,” Maitimo agreed. “Read me your favorite part?”

“ _Then the caterpillar said to the butterfly, ‘Will I really be as beautiful as you when I grow up?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ said the butterfly, ‘even prettier, if you’re lucky, and you are a very lucky bug!’ And the caterpillar blushed and thanked her very much._ ” Itarillë pronounced each syllable carefully, glancing up at Maitimo for approval every so often.

“Very good,” he praised. “I’m very proud of you, Itarillë. You’re learning faster even than Tyelpë!” That was not quite fair, considering the age gap between them, but Curvo and Atar weren’t there to correct them about the superiority of Fëanárion skill acquisition, and Itarillë was Maitimo’s favorite niece. He told her so, that bit at least.

“I’m your _only_ niece,” she huffed, elbowing him.

“Ohh, you’ve slain me,” Maitimo said dramatically, flopping back into the chair. “I suppose that makes you my least favorite niece, also!”

“Is your brother Makalaurë going to have a baby?” Itarillë asked. “I wish I had a girl cousin! Tyelpë’s nice, and Artaresto’s cute even if he’s only a baby, but I want another girl to play with!”

“Ah, I don’t know,” Maitimo said vaguely. The truth was Kano and Ezellë had no intentions of having children anytime soon, much to Atar’s disappointment, and Curvo and Quilla had quite enough to deal with even with only one child. It seemed Fëanáro’s love for children had skipped a generation; the Ambarrusat already joked that Tyelpë would father another seven sons to make up for the ones his uncles would not.

Itarillë pouted. “You and Uncle Finno won’t have any elflings,” she said sadly.

“No,” Maitimo agreed; even if he’d been particularly inclined to fatherhood, that was not a possibility for…several reasons. It was difficult enough to keep Fëanáro from tearing his hair out anytime someone mentioned Findekáno, though Maitimo no longer feared any real retribution from his father over his choice of lover. “I would ask about Írissë, but I know her well enough to know she’s not settling down, ever.”

“You should’ve seen her face when Atto said she should get married,” Itarillë giggled. “I thought she’d push him down the stairs!”

“She didn’t?” Maitimo said in mock-surprise.

“And Uncle Arno’s too busy at the university to even think about his future,” Itarillë concluded. “What’s the point of having so many aunts and uncles if they don’t want to make me any playmates!”

Maitimo tickled her, and she laughed in his lap until the book fell onto the floor. “ _That’s_ the point,” he said with a grin. “I can be your playmate, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://surpassingvalour.tumblr.com/post/620888592591503360/image-description-a-colored-pencil-drawing-of) \- this links to the OP, on my Maedhros sideblog :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/) or at my art blog [@annataryx](http://annataryx.tumblr.com/).


End file.
